


small talk

by TheIttyBitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, shitty jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 09:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11310663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIttyBitty/pseuds/TheIttyBitty
Summary: He’s not sure why he’s so hung up on this guy, honestly. Yeah, he’s a pretty cute dude. He always looks like he’s just rolled out of bed; tired eyes, bedhead, and a rumpled work uniform. It’s not really just that though, Dean is curious. He’s curious about that tight posture and quiet voice, all theplease and thank you’s, the averted eyes. He looks about Dean’s age, early twenties, but Dean doesn’t remember him from school.Added up, it all makes Dean a little twitchy. There’s just so much to wonder about.





	small talk

“What is _with_ that guy?” Dean wonders, leaning over the deli counter to watch his most recent customer leave.

“What guy?” Meg wonders from the register.

“That guy! The one you just rang up.”

“Seems fine to me.”

“He’s so _polite_.”

Meg shoots him a look and sidles over, barely missing putting her hand directly into a pool of spilled mayonnaise on the counter. “What’s wrong with polite?”  
  
“Nothing _wrong_ with it. Just, you know, nobody is that polite. What’s his deal.”

Meg sighs and gazes with him out the window. “He’s cute, don’t you think?”

“Huh?”

“Oh come _on_. I saw that mooney look on your dumb face.”

“I mean- he’s not _ugly_.”

“Uhuh.”

“I’m serious though. He’s _weird_.”

“Why don’t you just ask him? He’s in every day.”

“What the hell am I supposed to say?” Dean wonders, “ _Did you grow up in a cult, you fucking weirdo_?”

“Hey, i’m offering solutions here. I don’t see you having any bright ideas.” She gives him one last long look before flicking him in the elbow and walking away. Leaving Dean to chew thoughtfully on his bottom lip and gaze out the window.

He’s not sure why he’s so hung up on this guy, honestly. Yeah, he’s a pretty cute dude. He always looks like he’s just rolled out of bed; tired eyes, bedhead, and a rumpled work uniform. It’s not really just that though, Dean is curious. He’s curious about that tight posture and quiet voice, all the _please and thank you_ ’s, the averted eyes. He looks about Dean’s age, early twenties, but Dean doesn’t remember him from school.

Added up, it all makes Dean a little twitchy. There’s just so much to wonder about.

 

Dean has been building up his courage for days and he’s not afraid to admit it. He gets a little queasy right around ten in the morning when the guy usually comes in, it’s a mixture of apprehension about asking the question and an odd fear the the guy won’t come in today for some reason.

Unsurprisingly, though, the man walks through the glass doors of the deli precisely at ten, looking sleepy in his uniform. It’s the same color as the McDonald’s uniform, but with a different logo on the front that Dean can’t figure out.

“Mornin’.” Dean greets him as he comes up to the deli counter. He gets a small smile and a bashfully ducked head in response.

“Good morning, Dean.”

“You want the usual?”

“Yes, please.” Says the man, “But, may I also have tomatoes today?”

“Sure.” Dean agrees, pulling out bread to begin assembling the sandwich, he takes a deep breath before he loses his nerve and asks, “Hey, what’s your name, anyway?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean, you know my name, ‘cause of the name tag. But I don’t know yours.” He tries to play it cool, to sound like he just happened to wonder about it, instead of like he’s been obsessing about it for days.

“Oh.” Says the stranger, “My name is Castiel.”

“Yeah? Castiel. Cool.”

This one gets him another smile and a small tilt of Castiel’s head.

“So, um,” Dean clears his throat, “I’m gonna ask a super weird question, and you can totally tell me to fuck off if you want.”

The smile disappears, replaced by a wariness that almost has Dean balking. Almost.

“You’re so polite.” He presses onward, “Like, _really_ polite. What’s that about?”

Castiel opens his mouth, then closes it, opens it again. He looks Dean right in the eye and, seemingly deciding something, sighs. “I was raised very religious. I was taught to always be polite, it was a very, “ _don’t speak until you’re spoken to”_ household.”

“Oh.” Says Dean, slightly taken aback by this knowledge, and by the sadness that seems to have crept into Castiel’s eyes at the words, “Okay. Are you, um, religious?”

“I’m not.”

“Bet they didn’t like that much.”

Castiel looks at him for a very long moment. “They did not.”

“You still live with them?”

“No, I- they kicked me out some years ago.”

“Oh, shit, what for?”

At this, Castiel closes off. “Personal reasons.” He says, and that’s all Dean gets out of him.

 

Terrance Mulany is an asshole, Dean knows this intimately, and if he hates Dean so much, why the hell does he come into _this_ deli?

“That man was very rude.” Says Castiel, who has been waiting in line behind Terrance for the last ten minutes. Terrance is long gone now, but his overpowering cologne remains.

“Yeah,” Dean rolls his eyes, “Always is.”

“He seems to have a personal problem with you, which I find odd.”

“Well, we have some history.”

Castiel just looks at him, waiting.

“I- we dated.” Dean blurts. “Sorry. I know you were raised religious-”

“I’m not-” Castiel cuts himself off and looks quickly around, relaxing when he sees that they’re the only people within earshot, “My parents- the reason they kicked me out-” He stops, chewing his bottom lip.

“You’re gay.” Dean guesses, almost knocked off of his feet by the sense of relief he feels.

“Homosexual, yes.” Castiel confirms, looking thoroughly unhappy about it.

“Fuck your parents.” Dean says, “Sorry, but that’s a shitty thing to do. My family might be a bunch of assholes sometimes but at least they never kicked me out.”

Castiel purses his lips, nods, and says nothing for the duration of his order.

 

There are days, of course, when Dean has to walk home because he doesn’t have bus fare. It could be worse, really. The weather is nice enough, and about halfway home Dean sees a familiar head of tousled hair waiting at the next red light. He speeds up a little, and manages to catch up just as Castiel starts to cross.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean says, falling into step beside him.

“Good evening, Dean.”

“Hey, um. Sorry if I offended you the other day. I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no.” Castiel says hurriedly, “It’s alright, I wasn’t offended. I just never know how to respond to things like that, I apologize. I’ve been told i’m a bit stilted, socially. I agree with you. I will always love my family, but the fact remains that they are… homophobic dickheads.”

“Whoa, calm down there, Bruce Banner.”

“That’s what my eldest sister says, anyway. She took me in, you know, after.”

Castiel’s shoulders are tense again, and Dean wishes he knew how to help. “Sounds like a cool lady.” He says.

They walk in silence for a little while until they come to an intersection and Castiel says,

“I’m going left. I live over at the Liberty Apartments.”

“Ah, yeah, my house is straight on. Birch Street.”

But neither of them moves in the direction of their respective houses, instead hovering awkwardly there, pointedly not saying all of the things that hang in the air around them.

“I guess we could-” Dean says, just as Castiel begins to say,

“Would you like to-”

They both stop.

“You go.” Says Dean.

“Ah.” Castiel wets his lips, a pink rising in his cheeks, “Would you like to come over?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“What were you going to say?”

“I was actually going to invite you to my house…”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

The Liberty Apartments are… shabby, to put it nicely. There’s a lot of shouting going on up and down the stairwell, which Dean knows because the elevator is broken, and everything smells vaguely of piss. The inside of Castiel’s apartment is very clean though, and sparsely decorated. The furniture all looks like it’s probably secondhand, but it’s well cared for.

“My sister is home,” Castiel says as they step inside the dimly lit apartment, “But she’s probably sleeping. She works nights. Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure,” Dean shrugs, falling comfortably onto the couch, “Whatever you’ve got.”

Castiel comes back moments later with a glass of water for Dean, and sets himself on the couch, hands clasped politely in his lap.

“Where do you even work?” Dean wonders, “I thought it might be McDonald’s, but that’s a different logo, isn’t it?”

“Hmm, yes. I work at the Even Street Bakery. Similar colors.”

“You like living here?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I mean-”

“You mean as opposed to with my parents?”

“Well, yeah.”

Castiel thinks for a moment. “I knew they were going to kick me out.” He says, “I knew… that if I told them, they would disown me. And they did. I could have stayed in the closet. I could have kept lying to them and stayed at home where I was comfortable, probably for a long time.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I was miserable. My sexual orientation isn’t _who I am_ , but it’s still an important part of me, and I was tired of hiding it all the time. I just wanted the chance to be _open_. And I was scared, I was really scared. But… I had let fear define my life in so many ways up until then, and I guess, in the end, fear wasn’t a good enough reason to keep myself hidden.”

“Whoa.” Dean says, feeling like his heart is going to fly from his chest.

Castiel looks at him, with his kind eyes, and smiles. It’s toothy, wide, and makes Dean fear that he might pass out.

“I’m happy now. I know these apartments aren’t very good, and money is tight, but I get to live as _myself_. For me… it’s worth it.”

“Cas,” Dean says, breathless, unable to help himself.

“Yes?”

“I wanna kiss you. So bad.”

Castiel stills, and for a moment Dean thinks he might have made a huge mistake, but then,

“Alright.”

So Dean leans forward and kisses him, and then kisses him again, and Castiel is kissing back. It’s… everything. It’s everything Dean wanted, needed. It’s everything he expected and more, because Castiel has one hand on Dean’s thigh and the other in his hair, because he kisses like he’s drowning and Dean loves it, because maybe he wants to drown in _this_.

They don’t stop, and Dean can feel the tension, the idea that this is _going somewhere_ , when the overhead light flicks on.

“Castiel?” Says the red-headed woman standing in the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. She looks ethereal in a long nightgown.

Castiel and Dean pull apart at the sound, putting distance between them, both flushing at the idea of being caught.

“Oh, ah,” Castiel stutters, “Anna. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

Anna has a sly look on her face, and a knowing smirk that says she probably saw plenty. “I just came out to get some water. Who’s your friend?”

“This- ah, this is Dean…” He suddenly looks panicked and whispers, “What’s your last name?”

“ _Really_ , now.” Says Anna.

“Winchester.”

“This is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is my sister, Anna.”

“Nice to meet you.” Anna says, not unkindly. Only slightly exasperated. “You’ll have to come around for dinner some time when I’m not sleeping, you’re the very first boy I've caught my brother sneaking around with.”

Castiel scowls, “I wasn’t sneaking. I was being courteous of your sleeping patterns.”

Anna’s smile is soft, “I know, dear. I’m teasing. But I do think Dean should come to dinner.”

Castiel looks at Dean, an open, vulnerable expression.

“Sure.” Says Dean, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

This time, he gets a smile unlike any of the others. He’s not entirely sure how to describe it, its joyfulness, its fullness. Dean’s heart aches.

“Well, i’m going back to bed.” Anna says, loudly, “I’ll be sure to announce my entrances in case you’re doing something I don’t want to see.”

Castiel’s face turns bright red almost comically fast, his eyes wide, “Anna!” He hisses.

“Just be safe. Love you, goodnight!”

Just like that, she’s gone. Castiel looks mortified, and Dean can only think of one thing to do. He reaches out and slides their fingers together on the couch cushion. Castiel’s tension eases, and Dean leans forward to kiss him chastely on the lips.

“You wanna watch a movie or somethin’?”

Castiel kisses him back, decidedly less chaste. “Yes,” He says, “I would like that.” But he keeps kissing Dean, pushing him backward until they’re horizontal on the couch. It’s fast, and Dean’s work clothes smell like salami, but he loves the feeling of Cas over him. He loves the weight of Castiel’s thigh in between his legs, of Castiel’s mouth on the column of his throat.

They never do get to the movie, but it doesn’t matter so much to Dean, not with the taste of Castiel on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> [catch me on tumblr](https://deanlightful.tumblr.com/)


End file.
